


The Devil's Covenant

by wafagan14



Series: Harry Potter and the Glory of Satan [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Crossroads Deals & Demons, I'm not taking this seriously and neither should you, Insanity, Parody, Vassago - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafagan14/pseuds/wafagan14
Summary: After Voldemort's return, Harry finds an unlikely ally. The Child of Light made a deal with a demon. A snarky, sexually promiscuous, slightly insane, possibly incompetent demon. Rules are going to be broken (as well as the fourth wall, and probably some bones). Yep, the Wizarding World is screwed. Reviews are welcome!





	1. Deus Ex Machinas Are So Cliched

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd be publishing this for profit and swimming in a pool of cash, hookers and pudding. I don't have a pool, or cash, or pudding. Grocery day's tomorrow, though, so I'll pick some up, probably.

Harry had no idea where he was. Seconds ago he had been in the graveyard, watching in horror as Voldemort’s jet of green light slowly began to overpower Harry’s disarming spell. Now he was… somewhere else.

It appeared to be a diner. The kind seen often in American films. The vinyl booth seat under him was cracked and slightly sticky. The smell of hot coffee emanated from the kitchen. A song was playing on a jukebox: Harry didn’t know much Muggle music, but he’d heard Dudley blasting it in his room often.

_ I went down to the crossroads, _ __  
_ Fell down on my knees. _ __  
_ I went down to the crossroads, _ __  
_ Fell down on my knees. _ __  
_ Asked the Lord above for mercy, _ _  
_ __ "Save me if you please."

Cigarette smoke hung in the air, despite the fact that there were no other patrons present. 

When Harry glanced back towards his table, he jolted in shock. A man was slouched casually in the booth opposite him. He was dressed in an immaculate black suit with a red necktie and a red handkerchief tucked in the breast pocket of his jacket. A cigarette rested in the corner of his mouth.

“You look like hell, Mr. Potter,” the man said, blowing rings of smoke out of his mouth as he spoke. He pointed to the coffee table. A steaming mug of black coffee appeared before Harry. “Drink that, it’ll numb the shock, wake you up a bit.”

Harry took a swig, grimacing as the drink burned down his throat. The man waited patiently. “Better?”

“Not particularly,” Harry gasped. He shook his head as a horde of questions began jostling around in his brain. “Who are you, and where am I?”

The man sat up straight and held out a hand. “Where are my manners. The name’s Vassago, at the moment. I have many names, and many faces. This name and face are my favorites.” He paused and glanced around. “As for where we are, call it a Midpoint, a mystical plane halfway between life and death.” He frowned and peered out through the grimy window. “Or it could be New Jersey, they look awfully similar.”

“Why did you save me?” Harry asked.

“I didn’t save you. Not yet, at least. I’ve just called ‘time out’ for a little halftime show. Vassago gestured to Harry’s coffee cup. In the reflection, Harry could see the graveyard. He and Voldemort were still locked in battle; Cedric’s body lay between them with the Tri-Wizard Cup.

“Cedric,” Harry said suddenly. “Can you save him, too?”

“Who?” Vassago asked, then smiled and remembered. “Oh, yeah, the Hufflepuff, right? Older, more handsome and charming and all-around more brilliant than you? Unfortunately, he’s already moved on to the Great Upstairs.”

“He’s dead,” Harry whispered. “I killed him.”

“You didn’t kill him. Your dad’s deadbeat friend did. My advice, don’t worry about it. Ole Cedric’s probably prancing around Heaven playing leapfrog with Jesus, Mother Teresa, and the rest of those Holier-Than-Thou dipshits. He’ll be fine. Might get reincarnated.” Vassago leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Something tells me his career’s really gonna  _ bite _ after this.” He winked several times.

“Is that some kind of reference I’m supposed to understand?”

“Forget it, you have bigger things to think about.”

“Voldemort,” Harry muttered.

“Yes. It appears he has returned. As if three years of foreshadowing hadn’t been enough of a hint.”

“He’s going to kill me.”

“That’s up for debate, Mr. Potter, which is where I come in.” Vassago stubbed his cigarette into an ashtray. Harry suddenly noticed it was not lit. Smoke was still wafting out of Vassago’s mouth. “Fourteen years old and you’ve already fought the Dark Lord twice, killed a basilisk, freed a wanted criminal, and competed in a dangerous tournament way above your skill level with a fair level of competence. Now you’re about to get your ass handed to you by a racist lunatic with a face that looks like it’s been sat on. Fate seems to have made you her bitch.

“Yet that’s an ending hardly fitting for the Boy-Who-Lived, isn’t it? My kind and I have been watching you for some time. We are quite riveted by your story. It would be a pity if it were to end on a low note.”

“What are you?”

“Your friendly downstairs neighbor,”

“Are you the devil?” Harry asked, bluntly.

“I’ve been called worse,” Vassago said with a shrug.

“If you’re the devil, surely you’d be rooting for Voldemort?” Harry asked, confused.

Vassago frowned. “Now why would I do such a thing?”

“Well, don’t you usually side with the bad guys.”

Vassago laughed. “Me, the bad guy? Yes, I suppose that could be argued. I have done some bad things. I’m not the villain in your little story. In fact, you could think of me as your little guardian... ” he trailed off for a second. “I was going to say angel, but that’s not literally correct. Fucking semantics.

“Anyway, I’ve brought you here to give you an offer. I would very much like to help you in your endeavor,” Vassago said, standing up and walking over to a desk. “If you were to agree, I can give you the training and assistance necessary to defeat Voldemort.”

“You can’t just defeat him for me?” Harry asked.

“Unfortunately, no. That would be a direct interference with events topside. Also, that would torpedo this story before it gets interesting. I can’t fight your battles for you, but we can give you the tools and knowledge to fight them yourself.”

“What’s the catch?” Harry asked. “What do you want in return for helping me?”

Vassago chuckled. “What makes you think there’s a catch?” He saw Harry’s expression and nodded. “No point in lying to you, you’re too smart to be fooled. Of course, since you’ve asked, there is the usual payment in exchange for supernatural aid.”

Vassago picked up a sheet of paper from the desk. “According to Infernal Regulation 6C-34, in return for any infernal aid, the receiver of said aid is required to reimburse the infernal agent with the payment of one human soul.” Vassago handed Harry the form. “It’s all written in this contract I’ve prepared for us to sign.”

“My soul.”

Vassago nodded, “One human soul. It’s the standard payment. Sometimes we make exceptions, but not often.”

Harry frowned. “So, in return for my soul, you will help me kill Voldemort.”

“Yes.”

“If I refuse?”

“If you refuse, then you die in that graveyard, and Voldemort gains unrivaled control of the Wizarding World, or not. Darkness and chaos will spread across the land, and the universe will collapse. Or not. It’s all up to chance really. However, were you to sign this document, it would certainly better the odds.”

“So the alternative is not advisable.”

“Those are your words, not mine.”

Harry frowned. “I guess there’s no other option.” He stared down at the form, as the weight of his decision pressed down on him like a collapsing brick wall. Finally, he looked up at Vassago. “I accept.”

“Splendid.” Vassago handed him a pen. “Just sign on the dotted line.”

Harry wrote his signature out on the paper and gave it to Vassago. “So what happens now.”

“You’re going back to the graveyard.”

“You forget, I’m about two inches away from a killing curse to the face.”

“Then I suggest ducking and diving for your ticket back to Hogwarts.”

“My ticket?”

“You’ll figure it out. Good luck, we’ll get in touch with you soon.” With that Vassago snapped his fingers, and Harry felt a rush of panic as time resorted itself.


	2. Deus Ex 2: Electric Boogaloo

 

The first thought that went through Harry Potter's head as he read the Hogwarts expulsion letter in his hand was an expletive that should not be repeated in polite company. However, this is an M-rated story, so I'll just go ahead and say it. Fuck. There, how's that for adult language?

His second thought was two words: Run away. So he grabbed his trunk, his owl, and invisibility cloak and ran out the door before his relatives had a chance to murder him.

It wasn't until he was two miles away from Privet Drive that he realized how stupid an idea this was. Fifteen years old, alone in London, no clue as to where to go, wanted by the Ministry. He supposed he could go to the Leaky Cauldron, attempt to contact the Weasleys. They'd know what to do.

He was startled from his thoughts by a green light. Instinctively he dove out of the way and rolled behind a garbage bin.

"You missed him!" a voice said.

"That was just to scare him," another voice said. "The Dark Lord wants him alive."

Death Eaters. Harry swore for the second time that night and grabbed for his wand.

"Come out, Potter. The Dark Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting," one of the voices called out. Harry peered from behind the bin and saw the flash of a silver mask in the street lamp's glow.

Just then, a car fishtailed around the corner of the alley and plowed through one of the Death Eaters with a sickening thud. It was a black American sedan of a style now widely seen since the end of the Space Race. Screeching to a halt beside Harry, the passenger door was thrown open, and Harry was surprised to see Vassago behind the wheel. "Need a lift?"

"Where did you come from?" Harry asked.

"There's no time for backstory, get in the fucking car!"

They took off with the squealing of tires and rocketed out onto the main road, taking out a mailbox and several trash cans, as well as a very unfortunate squirrel. The remaining Death Eater shot several hexes at the car before summoning a broom and taking off in pursuit.

"Buckle up, Harry. This isn't the Night Bus," the demon said.

"I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing," Harry said as he hurriedly adjusted his seat belt.

They rocketed onto the toll road, the engine roaring menacingly as it took the shoulder to pass a lumbering milk float. A hex from the Death Eater's wand hit the truck. The resulting explosion sent the truck on its side. Vassago swerved out of its way, milk bottles exploding off the windshield, accelerated onto the oncoming lane. Cars honked and braked as the demon spun the car back into the right side of the road.

"Damn, why did you have to leave the house?" Vassago said. "You've broken the narrative."

"What narrative?"

"Nothing, nevermind, forget I said anything," Vassago swore as the Death Eater shot over the car and spun in mid air. "Duck!"

A blast of green light shattered the windscreen. Vassago jerked the wheel left, sending the car through a barrier and down a muddy embankment. "Hold on!" he shouted as a large wood fence loomed ahead of them.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Dursleys had left the house and taken off towards the nearest hospital, intent on giving Dudley medical care.

"Bloody boy and his damn ilk!" Vernon shouted as he ran a red light. "He's going to be the death of me!"

"Slow down!" Petunia screamed, cradling her Diddykins in her lap. "You're going to get us killed!"

"Calm down, Petunia!" Vernon bellowed. "It's quite alright. There's no one else out on a night like this."

Just then the fence running alongside the road exploded into splinters as a black American sports car plowed through, sideswiping the Dursley's Rover and disappearing down a convenient alleyway.

"Jesus Christ!" Vernon screamed. The Rover spun out and slammed into a row of parked cars. The airbags deployed, muffling whatever fierce barrage of curses ensued from the elder Dursley's mouth.

Petunia started screaming again. "Shut up, woman!" Vernon beat back the airbag and grabbed his wife by the wrists. "It's alright. Everyone is alright. No one is hurt."

It was then that the Death Eater shout through the gap in the fence and, disoriented, was thrown straight through the Rover's passenger window. Petunia resumed her screaming, while Vernon began to furiously assault the dazed wizard with his meat-pie fists.

* * *

"I think those were the Dursleys," Harry said, peering behind them.

"Shame we couldn't stop to chat," Vassago replied tersely. The car turned out of the alleyway and down the main thoroughfare. Vassago glanced in the rearview mirror. "We seem to have lost our tail."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked.

"I'm taking you to your godfather's house," Vassago replied. "Right after you left Privet Drive the Weasley's sent you an owl, telling you they were coming to pick you up."

"Great, first letter I receive all bloody summer and I'm not there to get it."

"Are you going to be this angsty?" Vassago asked. "We're not even three chapters in and it's like I'm sitting next to Holden freaking Caulfield."

"Who?"

"Jesus, read a book once in a while," Vassago turned and reached for something in the back seat. "I got you something," Vassago said, producing a leather satchel bag. "Happy birthday, Harry."

"What is it?" Harry asked, surprised by the demon's gift.

"Your basic travel bag magically tweaked. It's bigger on the inside." He reached in and pulled out a book. "Here's some light reading material," he said, tossing it to Harry.

It was an old leather-bound book, of a kind not produced since prior to Gutenberg's marvelous printing press. Harry wiped dust off the cover and read the title. " _Dark Magicka for Funne and Profitte_. This is a book of dark magic."

"Way to connect the dots. You're a real puzzle solver. I bet you're great with anagrams."

"I can't take this," Harry said firmly.

"You wanna take on Voldemort, you gotta learn to fight on his level."

"By learning the Dark Arts?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore says the Dark Arts are a gateway to evil."

"He also agreed to place a magical stone in the school basement and guard it with a three-headed dog," Vassago said. "The man is rather inconsistent, isn't he?"

"I'm not sure about this," Harry said, looking down at the book with a growing sense of dread.

"Says the kid who sold his soul to the devil. Know thy enemy, kid. Besides, there are some great illustrations in there, real " he held out the bag, "There's more inside. Some candies, combat boots, body armor. A cell phone (untraceable), some condoms..."

"Why do I need condoms?"

"How old are you, seventeen?"

"Fifteen."

"Yikes," Vassago reached in the bag and pulled out a small paper box. "I'll be keeping those," he reached back in and pulled out a bag of what looked to Harry like oregano. "I'll be keeping this too. Sorry, I'm rubbish at gift-giving."

Harry took the messenger bag from Vassago and looked inside. "What is that?"

Vassago looked in the bag. "Oh yeah, forgot about that," he reached in and pulled out a bulky black object.

"Why is there a gun in my bag?"

"A man's gotta have some protection," Vassago said. "In hindsight, it probably would have helped us a bit back there."

"You're pointing it at me."

"Oh don't be such a baby. The safety is…" he glanced down and flicked a switch with his thumb "-on."

"I'm not taking a gun to school."

"If you insist," Vassago said. "Oh look, we've arrived.

The car screeched to a halt. Harry looked out the window. They were parked outside an empty lot between a row of old council houses. "Where are we?"

"12 Grimmauld Place. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

"There's nothing there." Then, to Harry's surprise, there was.

"I'll let you see yourself to the stoop. It'd be better if the Order didn't know I was involved… yet." Vassago reached over Harry and pushed open the passenger door. "See you, Harry."

"Thanks, Vassago."

"Don't mention it." Vassago reached over and picked up the gun. "You sure you don't need this?"

"I'd rather not."

"Your funeral." Vassago tossed the gun into the back seat.

**BANG**

"What was that?"

"Dammit," Vassago swore, rubbing his ears. "The safety switch on that thing is really finicky sometimes."


	3. Franz Kafka's Rolling in His Grave

If the sense of dread Harry felt as he sat before the Wizengamot for his hearing had him on edge, what happened next did nothing to ease his mind.

"Sorry I'm late!" a familiar face shouted as he barged through the council room doors. "Traffic was a real bitch, I'll tell you that. You all oughta try driving here rather than apparating; it really puts a new perspective on the miracle of magic."

"Who in the blazes are you?" Cornelius Fudge asked, standing up from his chair.

"The name is B. L. Z. Bub, attorney at law. I am here on behalf of Mr. Potter, who has hired me to help in his defense."

A cough from the tribunal. Enter Dolores Umbridge, of course. "We were under the impression that Mr. Potter would be representing himself."

"And why should he do that?" Vassago asked, traversing down the stairs towards Harry's table. "A fourteen-year-old boy asked to defend himself? That's judicial suicide! Fortunately, I'm here."

"Great," Harry said, putting his hands over his face.

"We were not aware that Mr. Potter had requested legal counsel," Fudge said imperiously.

"Yes, it seems that most lawyers were reluctant to take Mr. Potter's case. I wonder why." He glanced up at Umbridge and Fudge.

"Mr. Potter, is this… _man_ your legal council?"

Harry remained silent for a few moments, wondering whether the demon would hurt or help his case. "Yes, Minister. I saw his name in a Prophet advertisement, and gave him a call."

Vassago sat down next to Harry and smiled up at the stone-faced Wizengamot. "Well, let's get this show started! I would like to begin by requesting the use to Veritaserum on Mr. Potter."

"The court does not see any reason to resort to such measures," Fudge replied icily.

"Why not? Shouldn't we hear the truth? Or is that not the point of this whole fiasco?"

"Objection!" Umbridge declared.

"Overruled," Vassago shot back.

"You can't overrule me!" Umbridge replied, taken aback, "That's not up to you."

"Madame Bones, control your unruly witness."

"Ms. Umbridge is not on the stand," Amelia Bones replied.

"Good. The court would now like to call a five-minute recess."

"Stop talking or I'll have you in contempt!" Fudge shouted.

"Mr. Minister, rest assured, you already have my contempt," Vassago replied.

"How dare you!" Fudge's face looked red as a beet with high blood pressure.

"You know, I've completely lost track of what we were talking about," Amelia Bones said.

"I requested the use of Veritaserum on the defendant."

"Does Mr. Potter agree?"

Harry was silent. "I do."

"Mr. Bub, stop mimicking Mr. Potter."

"As a lawyer, I think I speak for my defendant."

"Figuratively, not literally," Bones said. "Well, Mr. Potter, do you agree to undergo the administry of Veritaserum?"

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Alright then. We'll have a sample fetched shortly."

"Excellent." Vassago pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. "Would you like one?" He asked, turning to Harry.

"I'm fourteen."

"So?"

"Why are you here?" Harry hissed.

"I knew there'd be trouble here so I decided to come and help."

"You're not really helping!" Harry replied. "Fudge looks like he's about to have a stroke."

"All the better for our case, then."

"You're going to get me in trouble!"

"Actually, despite my antics, I am saving your bacon. That's why I asked for a Veritaserum. Fudge and Toad-the-Wet-Sprocket up there sure as hell weren't going to ask for one. All the more better to throw doubt on your story."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. Vassago smirked, "Yeah, you're fucking welcome."

"Just don't do anything to get us in further trouble."

Just then the door to the courtroom opened, and a man in a courier's jacket entered with a half-dozen flat boxes in his arms. "Pizza delivery for a Mr…. Bub?"

Vassago stood up, "That's me!"

"Who the hell let a Muggle pizza delivery man into the Ministry of Magic?" Fudge asked, running his hands through his thinning hair.

"Servant's entrance, guv'nor," the pizza boy said, shrugging by way of apology.

"I would like to request a five minute recess for lunch," Vassago asked.

"I could use a stiff drink," Fudge muttered.

* * *

An aide appeared after the court returned with a vial of the truth potion and administered it to Harry. After the entire story was recounted, the court held a vote.

"The court has decided that Mr. Potter did commit underage magic in front of his Muggle cousin, but under a life-or-death circumstance. Therefore, we cannot morally condemn him for saving the young Mr. Dursley's life. The Wizengamot finds him innocent of any wrongdoing." Mrs. Bones announced. Fudge looked apoplectic.

"Well that's a relief," Vassago said. "To be perfectly honest I was just winging it." With that, the demon stood up, tossing his cigarette into a dust bin. 'Well, that's my cue to leave. I'll send you my invoice, Harry!" the demon shouted as he trounced out of the courtroom. "Ta!"

As Vassago left the room, Dumbledore barged in past him. "Witness for the defense!" the old wizard shouted.

"The trial is over!" Fudge said, and slammed his gavel down with enough force to break the podium.

"Oh," Dumbledore said. "I'll see myself out, then."


End file.
